


Like the Touch of Rain

by Illuminatius



Category: Marvel, Marvel (Comics), Marvel 616
Genre: Angst, Canonical Character Death, F/M, Heterosexuality, M/M, One-Sided Relationship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2011-12-22
Updated: 2011-12-22
Packaged: 2017-10-27 20:03:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/299532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Illuminatius/pseuds/Illuminatius
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the aftermath of the superhero Civil War, Tony and Bucky develop an unexpected attraction. But with Steve gone and the Red Skull roaming free, the road ahead is an arduous one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so I can't possibly be the only one who thought that Bucky and Tony would have great angry sex after the fight in the Helicarrier. This is basically a fic formed from that thought. Longest thing I've written, too (EVER).
> 
>  **Beta:** Thanks to **jynx** over at livejournal for her amazing feedback, and to **TehAngelsCry** at deviantART for her grammar-nazi ways.
> 
> All non-OC character belong to Marvel Comics and their respective creators. No profit is made is from this story. Redistribution without permission from the author is forbidden. The title is taken from a poem written by Edward Thomas.

***

Join the army. Be all you that can be. Fight for your country, your home, your family. Have something to tell your grandkids.

It all sounds good on paper.

 _‘Of course_ ’, Bucky thought as he sat in what looked like a spacious interrogation room with his right arm shackled to a table, _‘they never tell you about witnessing the deaths of your friends and allies, or the possibility of being captured and tortured. Or that you could end up as a brainwashed Soviet assassin who tries to kill his best friend_ ’. It wasn’t exactly something that would boost troop morale.

The former Winter Soldier had a lot of blood on his hands. Recalling the vents before he got his memories back, he felt relieved that none of it had been Steve’s. Bucky had enough nightmares to deal with; the last thing he needed was to see his friend among the corpses that invaded his dreams.

A quick glance at his left side reminded him that it was bare; Stark’s men that removed his bionic arm from its socket after bringing him to the Helicarrier. It felt weird to see his left side devoid of an arm, but it wasn’t the first time Bucky had been treated to that sight. He did miss his original arm, but the artificial one did have its uses.

Stark probably had a team of scientists examining it, trying to find out how it worked and where it was made. They didn’t know that he could call to it from afar using his cybernetic implants – although they would know now, as he could feel his bionic appendage approaching. Bucky sat in silence as the arm came through the air duct, falling down on the floor with a thud. It reminded him of a horror flick he saw in an old movie theatre with Steve, where a severed hand became alive and terrorized a small town. As the metallic extremity crawled on top of the table to free his arm from its shackles, Bucky let out a short, silent laugh. That movie had scared him for weeks, despite the things he had seen on the battlefield, and even now his nightmares sometimes contained a severed hand that strangled people to death. When Steve had found out, Bucky had been on the receiving end of some good-natured teasing from his friend.

He briefly wondered if Stark had nightmares about Steve. ‘ _He damn well should_ ’, Bucky thought angrily as he attached his artificial arm to its socket, ‘ _it’s his fault that Steve is dead_ ’.

And Bucky was ready to repay the favor.

***

“ _If you’re reading this, things have gone worse than either of us expected…_ “

Tony looked at the piece of paper in front of him for what he believed was the hundredth time. He had dealt with a lot of things in his life: losing his company to Obadiah Stane, ending up homeless, alcoholism, being shot in the back by a crazy ex-girlfriend, heart conditions – the list was long and filled with dubious content. Suffice to say, Tony wasn’t a stranger to having his world turned upside down.

He could, however, say with absolute certainty that he never expected such an event to involve Steve’s last request.

 _Save Bucky from himself_ , Steve had written. _America needs a Captain_. Steve had obviously thought that Bucky would be the right man for the job, but Tony wasn’t really sure. The man was an ex-assassin. Sure, he looked like he was able – when Natasha and Sam had brought Bucky in, Tony had noticed the man’s physique, no doubt shaped by years of training – and he already had the shield. Tony just wasn’t sure about his mental state. The last thing he and this country needed was a psychotic Captain America. ‘ _Or rather_ ,’ Tony corrected himself, ‘a _nother psychotic Captain America_ ’.

Tony had seen Bucky many times, before and during the superhero civil war. Steve had once described him in length during their time as Avengers as an enthusiastic kid who had fought alongside Captain America for their country and its people, acting as a role model for the American youth. Steve had never gotten over failing to save Bucky, and Tony guessed that this was his way of making amends.

* _Tony?_ * Sam’s image came up on one of the screens in his office, with the man being in mid-flight, Redwing following him around as usual.

“I’m here. Any sign of Faustus?” Tony asked. He had sent the Falcon to scout for Faustus a couple of hours ago, after letting him rest for a while.

* _Nothing. I’m going to be flying over the south side soon, but if I can’t spot him there, I don’t know what else I can do._ *

Neither did Tony. “Just…keep on looking,” he said, pinching the bridge of his nose. “We need to find him before something happens to Sharon.”

* _I’m not a miracle worker, Tony._ *

“I know.” Tony could see skyscrapers in the background, so Sam had to be flying over a densely populated area. Unless Faustus’ aircraft had some form of stealth mode, Tony figured that it would be easy to find, especially if civilians had spotted it.

* _How is Bucky? Still unconscious?_ *

“No, he’s conscious, but I haven’t talked to him yet, Sam. Natasha thinks it might be better if she makes the first move…with their history and all.”

* _Be careful_ ,* Sam said. * _We don’t know what those sick freaks did to him._ *

“I can take care of myself, Sam.”

Tony was pretty sure that Sam was trying hard not to scowl. * _It’s not you I am worried about, Tony,_ ” Sam said. “ _That kid was important to_ Steve _, so now he’s important to_ me.*

‘ _Gee_ ’, Tony thought, ‘ _no hidden hostilities there_ ’.

“Do you really think I need to be reminded of that?” Tony asked, shoulders tensing. He resisted the urge to yell, knowing that it would get him nowhere. Steve had been his best friend and confidante for years. They had fought together and saved each others lives on numerous occasions. And now people thought that he didn’t give a shit about Steve, or that he didn’t feel guilt over his death at every waking moment. Tony half expected Luke Cage to stand in the middle of Times Square shouting that Tony was a heartless bastard. “Look, just focus on tracking Faustus and his people…and finding Sharon. Let me worry about Bucky-“

Tony didn’t get to finish his sentence as the power went out, and the room was in covered in darkness.

***

* _Let me worry about Bucky-_ *

That was all Tony could say before communications were cut.

“Tony? Tony!” Sam instinctively knew that this wasn’t something good. “Damn it…”

Beside him, Redwing let out a cry. Sam didn’t need an empathic link to understand it. “I know, buddy. Let’s go.”

***

The hollow voice of the computer rang loud and clear in Tony’s ears as the light went back on.

 _[Power grid fluctuations on levels two, three and seven…]_

Tony swore. The power had gone out for only a few seconds, but it was apparently enough to mess with the monitors in his office. His communication with Sam had been cut short, and all he got now was static.

“Damn it,” he said, moving to his desk and pressing a button on the intercom. “Natasha, what’s going on down there? Comms are spotty through the whole level and there’s no video feed.” Tony hoped that the intercom would be working properly, at least. Extremis wasn’t picking up any visuals or audio signals from the Helicarrier surveillance systems. If surveillance was cut, Bucky could be anywhere, and Tony didn’t know what Bucky would do if freed. He knew that S.H.I.E.L.D. agents were trained for combat, but Tony didn’t think that they would pose much of a threat to Bucky.

‘ _Damn, he’s probably escaped from the interrogation room_ ,’ Tony thought as a small amount of panic started to settle in his mind. ‘ _Don’t let anyone be hurt, don’t let anyone be hurt..._ ’

Natasha’s voice broke his train of thought. * _The lights went out for a second and now all my screens are static. I’m heading out, Tony._ *

“Get me a sit-rep,” Tony said, taking of his shirt and mentally commanding the inner layers of his armor to cover his body. The gold-colored material quickly formed the interfacing undersheath. “I’m on my way.” He had to move quickly to make sure that Bucky was still detained, even though he knew that Bucky wouldn’t waste a perfect chance to escape.

Apparently, Natasha was able to read minds. Or at least Tony’s mind. He briefly wondered how transparent he was. * _Tony, I was just looking right at him, I’m sure it’s-_ * There was a moment of silence. Tony didn’t like it. Cut-off sentences meant bad news. * _-I’ve got six agents down. All still breathing, though._ * Damn it. Nobody was supposed to get hurt.

“And the Winter Soldier?” Tony already knew the answer to this one. Six agents down could only mean one thing.

Tony heard Natasha mumble something, but he couldn’t make out what it was. He was just about to ask her about it when she spoke. * _He’s in the wind, Tony…you had better watch your back._ *

“Right, I’ll do that; meanwhile, you try to contact Sam and tell him to keep looking for Faustus,” Tony ordered, closing the channel after Natasha. He would handle Bucky, but they could not afford to let Faustus slip between their fingers. He ordered Extremis to open another channel, this time to all communications – they needed to find Bucky, and fast.

“All stations, this is Director Stark. We have a 227 red alert,” Tony said, hoping that all personnel on deck would get the message. “Fugitive on board. Approach with caution, or not at all. Use of lethal force is not, I repeat, _not_ approved.” Tony hoped that he wouldn’t have to resort to it himself. Steve would never forgive him if he did.

As a system message alerted him about a fluctuation in the power grid, Tony moved quickly through the large corridors, stopping to give another message. “I need this man-“ A movement in the corner of his eye drew his attention, and he raised his head towards a walkway. “-alive.” Bucky.

The punch hit Tony before he could react, and he was knocked back by the force of the blow.

‘ _I guess he doesn’t need_ me _alive_.’

***

“Stop!”

The agents pointed their machine pistols, at Bucky, who looked at them with a smirk. There were six of them, and they all looked nervous. One of the agents, a young man who didn’t look a day older than 24, was shaking slightly.

“Or what? You’ll shoot me?” Bucky taunted, moving closer. “Hate to break it to you, but that’s not going to work.”

The young agent was now shaking violently, his face pale, and the agent who had spoken earlier tightened his grip on the firearm. “I-I said stop!”

Bucky could hear footsteps in the distance as it echoed in the adjacent corridors, and he knew that it was either Natasha or another agent looking for him. This was taking too long. “Tough luck.”

One of the agents gasped; Bucky saw that the scared young agent had passed out. The agent pointing the firearm at him turned his head sideways to see what was going on, and that was all Bucky needed to act.

He lunged forward, bionic arm hitting the agent’s jaw, knocking him unconscious. The other agents tried to aim at him, and Bucky kicked one in the stomach, then utilizing their momentary shocked state to grab two other agents and slam their heads together, letting them drop down on the floor. The last agent looked at him with wide-eyed panic before charging at him; Bucky sidestepped and struck the back of the agent’s head with his real hand, incapacitating him. The man fell down on the floor, firearm skidding across the corridor. He picked up the young agents pistol, strapping it to his back. Bucky didn’t like to admit it, but it felt good to have a weapon in his hands.

Bucky could hear the footsteps coming closer, and moved away from the corridor. He could faintly hear Natasha’s voice, but couldn’t make out what she was saying. Those agents were only unconscious – at least that was what Bucky hoped. He only wanted one man dead today. Bucky knew that Steve wouldn’t have liked what he planned to do; then again, Steve was dead, all because Tony Stark turned him into an easy target. The bastard didn’t even have the decency to bury Steve with his shield.

As he approached a walkway, Bucky heard the echo of metal on metal. He moved closer – and saw Stark standing in the corridor below, faceplate up, talking. Bucky silently approached the edge, ready to jump.

“I need this man-“

Taking advantage of Stark’s inattentive state, Bucky jumped down, metal fist ready to strike, and he saw the man looking up at him.

“-alive.”

Bucky’s fist connected with Stark’s armored shoulder, knocking him back but leaving him uninjured. His attack had deliberately hit the armor; Bucky didn’t want to hit Stark’s uncovered face and end it too quickly.

“You actually brought me up here?” Bucky sneered, preparing his arm for an EMP attack. If he could short-circuit that damn armor, Stark would be helpless. “How stupid _are_ you?”

“Not stupid at all, kid,” Stark said, smirking, and the superior tone of voice made Bucky grind his teeth in anger. He’d wipe that smirk off Stark’s face. Quickly moving forward, he grabbed Stark’s armor-clad arm, activating the EMP. There was a flash of light, and electric sounds could be heard.

And Stark was still standing, no damage done. Bucky was sure that his EMP had worked, but now Stark was looking at him, faceplate covering the smirk Bucky was sure Stark had plastered on his face. He pushed Bucky backwards.

“Like, don’t you think I’d know how to get around an _electromagnetic puls_ _e_ by this point in my career?” Stark asked, following up his question with a repulsor blast that knocked Bucky away. They were on an elevated part of the Helicarrier, with helicopters in the hangar beneath them; Bucky found himself on the floor next to a chopper, with Stark descending from above. “So, do you really want to waste both our time like this, or can we act like adults and-“

Bucky didn’t let Stark finish his sentence; he lunged forward, hitting Stark with a punch to his groin that Steve had once dubbed ‘the man-beater’ (Bucky still remembered how Toro had cringed at that), which would have incapacitated the man had he not been inside his armor.

‘ _You want to fight dirty? Well, so do I_ ’, Bucky thought as he reached for the machine pistol, aiming it at Stark’s armor-clad form.

“Cut it out. This isn’t going to get you anywhere,” Stark said, the metallic hollowness of voice echoing in the hangar. “You can’t hurt me, kid.”

‘ _O_ _h, yeah?_ ’

Bucky pulled the trigger.

***

Tony was amazed at how many bullets a standard S.H.I.E.L.D. regulation gun could produce. They hit his armor and the panels behind him. Tony knew that the bullets wouldn’t be able to damage him directly, but Bucky didn’t look like someone who would be stopped by that fact.

“Seriously. Don’t do this,” Tony said, firing a repulsor blast. Bucky dodged the attack, and the blast hit one of the choppers. The panels behind him were crackling with electricity, and there were pieces of metal and debris all over the hangar.

Damage control is going to cost an arm and a leg. Perfect. Just what I needed.

Tony fired off another repulsor blast, which Bucky narrowly dodged. He lunged forward while Tony was preparing another blast, grabbing the armor.

“Why don’t you-“ Bucky said, tightening his grip on the armor, “- _shove it!_ ” Tony found himself forcefully pushed backwards, onto the exposed wires in the destroyed panels behind him. The surge of electricity hit him like a ton of bricks, knocking the wind out of him. The sudden pain was blinding, and Tony let out a scream as he fell down to the ground.

 **[ENERGY FIELD OVERLOAD]**

“All right…” Tony said, recovering from the pain. “That’s enough.”

 **[ARMOR RECHARGING. 82 PERCENT POWER]**

The repulsors were ready, and Tony tried to stand up straight, tilting his head up when he had movement. Bucky was lunging at him with a primal growl; for a split second, Tony was afraid. Bucky wouldn’t stop until either he or Tony died, two outcomes that weren’t desirable.

Evading another blast with what Spider-Man would have described as a “kick-ass ninja move”, Bucky managed to get behind him, grabbing his head while simultaneously dragging him down. Tony knew that Bucky would have a hard time snapping his neck while he was in the armor, bionic arm or not, and something told him that Bucky already knew this. If Steve had been telling the truth, Bucky was a pretty decent tactician during World War II. Tony expected another EMP, or a – literally – crushing grip on his neck.

What he didn’t expect was for Bucky to hook his metal fingers under his faceplate and start pulling.

 **[HELMET INTEGRITY WARNING – 40 PERCENT PRESSURE]**

“Hey, what are you doing?” Tony asked.

Bucky let out a roar, and pulled the armor’s faceplate off, throwing it away.

 **[HELMET INTEGRITY COMPROMISED]**

Tony panicked. He hadn’t expected Bucky to do this. “Damn it!” Tony directed two repulsor blasts at his back while getting up, hoping to knock Bucky off balance and get the upper hand. Instead, he felt a blow to the back of his armored knees; the blow was strong enough to make Tony lose his balance and topple backwards, falling on his back. Bucky rolled to the side, and when Tony was on the ground, Bucky was leaning over him, the S.H.I.E.L.D. regulation machine pistol aimed at his face. Bucky planted his knees on either side of Tony, and looked at him with contempt.

“Now,” Bucky said, grinding his teeth, “what was that about not being _able_ to hurt you?”

Tony had to think fast; the situation had escalated, and he didn’t want it to be out of control. The repulsors were almost ready to fire again – the only thing Tony needed was to keep Bucky distracted for another second or two.

“You’re good, Bucky,” Tony said, slowly raising his gauntlets, “and quick on your feet in a fight. I’m glad to see that…”

Tony raised his arms, resting his gauntlets at either side of Bucky’s head, repulsors ready to strike. “But if you even move an _inch_ , I’m going to liquefy your brain right in your head.” Bucky was silent, and Tony was surprisingly calm for someone who had a gun pointed at his face. Years of being an Avenger tended to have that effect on you.

The blue light from the repulsor gauntlets illuminated Bucky’s face, and Tony got a good look at him. Technically, Bucky was older than Tony (much like the way Steve was older than Tony, but still…not), but in the light cast by his gauntlets, Bucky looked very young, like he was in his late twenties, which Tony supposed Bucky was, biologically. He had a strong face, made pale by the light from his gauntlets; Tony would describe it as handsome, with a chiseled jaw and a few days worth of stubble. It was the kind of face that Tony would find very attractive, and for the briefest of moments Tony wanted to touch it; to feel the cheekbones with the tips of his fingers, let them glide across that jaw line.

Bucky reminded him of Steve, but at the same time he didn’t. The features were somewhat alike; but while Steve’s face had been open and honest - with emotions that were clearly displayed on his face - Bucky had the face of someone who had been trained to keep emotions in check, someone who didn’t trust anybody. Tony wanted to see emotions displayed on Bucky’s face, strong emotions evoked by his touch and Tony wasn’t sure where the hell that particular train of thought was going. Apparently, being held at gunpoint by an attractive man straddling him was turning out to be a major turn-on. It didn’t really surprise Tony – he had had weirder urges.

' _Get your act together, Tony. This is no time for thoughts like these_.'

Bucky was still looking at him, gun aimed at Tony’s forehead. Tony lowered his gauntlets, and looked him straight in the eyes. “I really don’t want to do that.”

“Why the hell not?”

“Because I’m trying to honor the wishes of a dead friend.”

Bucky’s grip on the machine pistol loosened slightly, but Tony noted that his finger never left the trigger.

“ _That’s_ why I brought you here…because Steve Rogers asked me to save you from yourself.”

At that, Bucky’s expression changed; it became more vulnerable, more questioning. The firearm was still aimed at Tony’s forehead, but he no longer held it with a white-knuckled grip.

“I know you hate me because of his death, and I understand that,” Tony said in a low voice while maintaining eye contact, “but I have a letter you need to read. And honestly…Steve would never forgive us if we killed each other, would he?”

There was a moment of silence before Bucky got up, the arm holding the machine pistol being lowered to rest at his side. He stood there, looking at Tony with something akin to shock and confusion. The news of Steve’s last request seemed to have stunned him, and Tony knew how that felt.

The faceplate was lying next to him; Tony would have to reattach it later. For now, he removed his helmet completely before picking up the faceplate and standing up. The helicopter hangar was a mess.

' _I’ll get someone to clean this up later,_ ' Tony thought. He had to show Bucky the letter, and get this whole thing over with.

“Follow me.”

***

Natasha ran through the Helicarrier corridors, a group of soldiers right behind her. She had tried to reach Tony, but all she got was silence. Tony never turned off communications. Considering that his brain was now a supercomputer, Natasha wasn’t sure if he _could_ turn it off, which could only mean that Tony was too distracted to answer her call. James must have reached him, and Tony hadn’t contacted her in the last fifteen minutes. Natasha checked her tracking signal detector – Tony was in his office. She needed to hurry.

Natasha picked up the pace. “Let’s go! The computer says they moved the fight to the director’s office!” The soldiers followed suit, firearms ready. “Remember, non-lethal shots only, people!” She didn’t want to have to shoot – or kill – James, but she would do so if it meant saving Tony.

She was approaching the director’s office, and could discern two shapes; one seemed to be sitting down. Natasha prepared her gun, and rushed through the entrance.

“Freeze! Hold it right-“

James was sitting at Tony’s desk, looking at her.

“-there…?” Natasha said, confused. Tony seemed to be all right; he had his helmet off, and looked a bit haggard, but otherwise fine. James turned his attention to a piece of paper in his hand. His eyes were wide, as if he couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

Tony turned to face her. “It’s okay, Natasha. I’m fine.”

“So I see…I suppose.”

“You can stay; the rest of you, return to your stations.” Tony said, turning his attention back to Buk, who was still looking at the piece of paper. James’s eyes darted from left to right, indicating that he was reading whatever was written on the paper.

“What the hell is going on here, Tony?” Natasha asked, her voice tinged with irritation. She had just spent the last ten minutes being worried about finding Tony dead, and here he was, standing around James like it was the most normal thing in the world.

Tony looked like he was about to answer, but James beat him to it. “It’s a letter,” he said, tilting his head so that he could look at Natasha, “from Steve Rogers.” She had never heard him like this; so unsure, almost scared.

“Oh…” Natasha said, thinking. A letter from Steve? The man was dead. That could only mean-

A last request.

 _“Oh.”_

***

Captain America.

Steve wanted him to be _Captain America_.

Bucky couldn’t tear his eyes away from the letter. Natasha was standing in front of him, and Stark was at his side, looking at him expectantly. He had read the letter twice, and it still made no sense. How could Steve want _him_ to be Captain America? It hadn’t been that long ago since he was the Winter Soldier. He had too much emotional baggage to be Captain America, something that Bucky knew Steve was aware of.

“So, is this legitimate?” Bucky asked Stark, secretly hoping that it wouldn’t be. He didn’t want his best friend’s last request hanging over him, but Bucky knew he wasn’t ready for the title. There was a good chance that he’d never be ready for it.

“I may be capable of a lot of things, but I wouldn’t fake something like that. It’s authentic, and the lawyer who delivered it is clean.” Stark said, and Bucky felt his last ounce of hope inside him die. That meant that this was real. Steve had written this.

Stark continued, arms crossed, expression serious. “Now, are you ready to set aside our problems and find the man who _really_ got Steve killed – the Red Skull? Because this plot goes deeper than you know, kid.” Bucky had to control the urge to point out that he was, in fact, older than Stark. “He’s compromised S.H.I.E.L.D. already and I have no idea what his final goals are.”

“That’s because he’s been right in front of us the whole time,” Bucky said, looking at Stark. The man looked tired – not from the fight, but from everything else. “He’s Lukin or…I don’t know, somehow he’s in Lukin’s head.” Just thinking about it gave him a headache.

Stark’s expression changed from weary to slightly confused, and then the man turned pale.

“ _Aleksander Lukin_ is the _Red Skull_?” Tony’s voice had risen by an octave. Apparently, this was all news to him.

“I know him,” Natasha said. “He’s got his own private army, with that corporation of his…Kronas.”

“Yeah, but what he plans to with them is-“ Bucky started, but was interrupted by Stark. A number of screens appeared, every one of them filled with static. Stark had moved forward, his armor-clad feet making a dull sound against the carpets as he walked.

“No. Neither of you understand…the news came in during our fight.”

Natasha sat on the glass desk while Stark ordered the computers to find any recent news relating to Lukin. She was still as beautiful as Bucky remembered; her crimson hair - shorter than he remembered it – framed her beautiful face, and her black uniform clung to her every curve, leaving very little to the imagination. Bucky still found himself attracted to her, but the love he felt so many years ago had disappeared. He wasn’t even sure if those emotions were his own, or implanted by his Soviet taskmasters.

As he was turning his head back towards the screens, he caught Stark looking at him; when Bucky met his eyes, Stark turned his head immediately, as if he was startled by something. He didn’t understand Stark’s motives or intentions, and didn’t want to try. Bucky shifted his focus back on the screens, now filled with images.

All of them were showing news reports on Aleksander Lukin’s death.

***

“That’s because he’s been right in front of us the whole time.” Bucky had said, gaze fixed on Tony; the same gaze that had held murderous intent only a few moments ago. The unshaven appearance was a good look for him, Tony noted. Coupled with the black leather and metal arm, it made him look…tough. Powerful. Dangerous.

The feeling of attraction hit Tony again. He had no idea where the hell these thoughts came from, and right now, it was the last thing he needed to think about.

“He’s Lukin or…I don’t know, somehow he’s in Lukin’s head.”

Tony froze. Lukin? But Lukin was dead. Extremis had supplied Tony with reports about Aleksander Lukin dying in a plane crash during their fight, when Bucky was trying to punch his lights out, but he had been a bit too preoccupied to pay them any attention.

“ _Aleksander Lukin_ is the _Red Skull_?” Tony asked, voice rising. The Skull wouldn’t die because of an accident. Supervillains had a habit of cheating death, and they tended to go out with a bang preceded by a long, boring monologue about how their plans failed thanks to whoever was there at the time. The Red Skull, dying in a plane crash? ‘ _Unlikely,_ ’ Tony thought. The Skull wouldn’t let something happen to the body he shared.

And that could only mean one thing; the Skull was alive. They had to deal with him fast.

Tony briefly registered Natasha saying something, and Bucky replying, before deciding to speak up. Apparently, neither Bucky nor Natasha knew about Lukin’s “death”. He moved forward to stand in front of his desk, commanding Extremis to open up a bunch of screens.

“No,” Tony said, and the two looked at him. “Neither of you understand…the news came in during our fight.”

“Computer, news feed channels. Search subject: Lukin.” Tony said, and the computer started to search for news. Images were beginning to pop up on the screens; they were slightly distorted, but Tony could still see the headlines about the crash.

 _[Searching all news feed…]_

While the computer was assembling the news reports from earlier, Tony sneaked a look at Bucky. The soldier’s gaze was fixed on Natasha, who had her back turned to him; Tony couldn’t decipher Bucky’s expression. The man seemed to have an impressive poker face when he wasn’t angry and holding a gun to Tony’s head. He pegged Bucky as someone who showed either no emotion, or too much emotion. No middle ground.

He didn’t have more time to ponder, as Bucky decided to look at the computer screens and caught Tony’s gaze, hazel eyes meeting blue.. They were quite beautiful to look at, and Tony had to stop himself from losing himself in them. He quickly faced forward, feeling a neck spasm from the sudden movement. This was dangerous territory. Bucky was, for all intents and purposes, an ex-assassin who had tried to put a bullet through Tony’s skull less than an hour ago.

 _'Stay focused. Do what Steve wanted you to do, and then it’s over._ '

News reports from CNN were being played on the computer screens; footage of the destroyed aircraft intersected with pictures of Lukin and stock charts showing a decline in the market.

“ _…tragic news today for international energy conglomerate, the Kronas Corporation, as a corporate jet goes down over the Atlantic. Among the bodies recovered in the wreckage was reclusive CEO Aleksander Lukin, who founded the company after a self-imposed exile from his native Russia…_ ”

The three remained silent for a couple of minutes while the news report finished discussing the consequences of Lukin’s death on the company stock.

Tony would have rubbed his hands together in glee if he had been alone. People would abandon Kronas like rats on a sinking ship once the stock value dropped, and hopefully buy stocks in Stark Solutions.

Bucky was the first one to break the silence, sounding confused. “It’s a trick,” he said, eyes fixed on the nearest screen, face slightly pale. “He’s not dead. He _can’t_ be-”

“I know that _now_ ,” Tony said, interrupting Bucky mid-sentence. They didn’t have time for this. “He had to cover his trail when we got our hands on you. And that means whatever the Skull is planning, it’s going to start soon.”

Bucky had lowered his head, Steve’s letter in front of him. Tony decided to press on. “So. Are you going to step up here, or not?”

“…They’ve got Steve’s girl: your Agent 13.”

“I know. It was her we were trying to save when we found you.” And in the grand scheme of things, Tony guessed that it happening like this was for the best. They’d rescue Sharon, make Bucky the new Captain America and Tony wouldn’t have to worry about Steve visiting him like the Ghost from Friendships Past because Tony let him down again.

He almost cringed at the thought.

“Now answer the question.”

***

Stark was looking at him expectantly, and Natasha had a look of sympathy on her face; Bucky knew that she must have glanced at the letter, reading the sentences upside down without letting anyone see that she did. It was one of the most basic skills that even low-level spies had little difficulty mastering, and Natasha was the finest spy in the world.

Sharon had been kidnapped, the Skull was alive and Steve wanted him to be the next Captain America. Bucky wasn’t sure when the world had gone mad, but he didn’t like it. Any of it.

He had looked up to Steve, admired him and thought of him as a brother. And then he tried to kill him. Bucky might not be the sharpest crayon in the box, but he knew that he wasn’t right for the role.

“Look, Steve didn’t say that I should-“

Stark interrupted him, arms crossed and the look of a man who reached the end of his patience plastered on his face. “I know _exactly_ what he wrote. But it’s not as if you’re going to let someone else be that guy. And you’ve read that letter, what…twice? I’ve read it a hundred times. Do you want to be the one to let him down? Because I know what _that_ feels like.”

 _'I bet you do,_ ' Bucky thought, but he could see Stark’s point. Bucky didn’t want to disappoint Steve any more than Stark did. He had his reservations about the whole concept of someone other than Steve taking up the mantle, but his friend had specifically wanted _him_ to be the next Captain America, and had even gone so far as to ask someone who had hunted him down and paraded him on the steps to parliament like a common criminal, to make sure it happened.

And Stark was right; Bucky didn’t want someone else to parade around in Steve’s old uniform or use his shield. Steve might not have been the only Captain America, but he was the first and would always be the Captain America to Bucky, no matter what. Taking up the mantle wouldn’t change that.

Bucky couldn’t let the shield fall in to someone else’s hands. He might not have been ready, but Bucky knew that there was no other option.

Running his fingers though his hair in frustration, Bucky sighed, tilting his head up to see Stark and Natasha exchange worried glance. Natasha was probably worried about him, but Bucky knew that Stark was afraid that he would decline. The room was silent, the only sound audible being the scrape of the chair as Bucky stood up.

“All right,” he said, and Stark looked at him intently while Natasha averted her gaze, “I’ll do it…on two conditions.”

Stark looked like was about to speak, mouth opening slowly, but the man stayed quiet, eyes never leaving Bucky. It felt a little off-putting. “First, I want you to do whatever you can, probe my mind,” he said, pointing at his head as if to make himself clearer, “to make sure that no one else can ever control me again. Make sure there’s no more Winter Soldier safe-words or implants.”

“Of course. I got men standing by right now to start running those tests. What’s the second condition?”

‘ _Huh,_ ’ Bucky thought. Stark was prepared. The man knew that Bucky would not ignore Steve’s last wishes, and it made him feel manipulated. He didn’t want Stark pulling the strings; no one pulled Steve’s strings when he was Captain America, and the same would apply to Bucky. “I don’t answer to _you_ …or to anyone. Steve didn’t, and neither will I. That’s the only way it works.” He was sure Stark understood; the man might be rotten, but he was no fool. If Stark decided to play puppet master, he was in for a nasty surprise, and Bucky was certain that Stark knew that.

As Stark was pondering on Bucky’s demand, Bucky decided to study the man standing in front of him, with this downcast eyes and tired visage. He had seen Stark’s face many times in various newspapers and magazines that he had picked up during his…missions, and Bucky was almost surprised at how pale the man looked compared to the full-page spreads. Stark hadn’t been this pale during the whole “civil war”; Bucky deduced that recent events - most likely Steve’s death - that had led to Stark’s currently haggard state.

It made Bucky feel good in a vindictive way. Stark might not have shot Steve, but he had turned him into a walking target. Stark deserved to feel bad.

Stark had lowered his hand, and was looking at Bucky again. Natasha had been silent throughout the entire exchange. Her posture was rigid, but Bucky could see the fingers of her left hand drum against her leg. Outside the office, two guards were standing by the doors, but Bucky paid them no mind as Stark opened his mouth to answer him.

“Okay. I can live with that.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the aftermath of the superhero Civil War, Tony and Bucky develop an unexpected attraction. But with Steve gone and the Red Skull roaming free, the road ahead is an arduous one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Beta:** **TehAngelsCry** at deviantArt.
> 
> All non-OC character belong to Marvel Comics and their respective creators. No profit is made is from this story. Redistribution without permission from the author is forbidden.

“Just lay down here, please,” one of the doctors ordered, pointing at what seemed to be a large metal slab. Extra arm space had been added to the sides, and machines were hooked to them, wires criss-crossing underneath. It reminded Bucky of a contraption they used in the Soviet base.

As he laid down, the cool metal touching his back, another doctor attached electrodes to his biological arm while a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent activated the left-hand side machine. A beeping sound filled the otherwise silent room, and Bucky could see Stark and Natasha standing in the viewing gallery above. They seemed to be talking amongst themselves, and paid Bucky no attention.

The middle-aged doctor who had ordered Bucky to lie down stood next to him, a gentle look on his face. His brown hair was turning white at the sides, but his face looked youthful. The doctor didn’t seem to be scared of Bucky, or hid it really well; Bucky liked that. He didn’t need some panicked doctor screwing things up out of fear.

“Are you comfortable? Good,” he said as Bucky nodded in answer to the question, “then we can begin. My name is Dr. Perkins. My colleagues and I will be administering a few tests, and hopefully remove any remnant of the Winter Soldier safe-words from your mind.” He sounded very professional, but so had Bucky’s Soviet captors. “You might feel a bit of pain, but I assure you, that is a normal reaction to the procedure. We will, after all, delve in to your mind. As long as you remain calm, the procedure should go according to plan."

“Where are the psychics?”

“Dr. Benton,” Dr. Perkins said, pointing at the rather nervous looking doctor next to him, “will be performing the mind probe, and we have a machine that picks up your brainwaves and translates them into data, so to speak.”

A harness was attached to Bucky’s head, holding it down, metallic wires growing away from it like snakes from Medusa's head. Four computer screens lit up, one on either side of his head and one near each arm. Bucky couldn’t fully move his head, but he could tilt it to the side just enough to see a cross-section of his vital organs displayed on the screen next to his right arm. He couldn’t see what was on the screens next to his head; if Bucky hadn’t caught the sudden appearance of light in the corner of his eyes, he wouldn’t even have known that they were activated.

Dr. Perkins noticed Bucky looking at the screen next to his real arm. “Those are images of your organs. We need to monitor them during the procedure so that we can spot any dangerous activity.”

“Dangerous activity?” Bucky didn’t like the sound of that. “I thought you were only going to fix my mind, doc.”

“Yes, but we don’t know what probing your mind can lead to. Your…creators, for the lack of a better term, may have implanted fail-safes to prevent tampering. As they say, it’s better to be safe than sorry.”

A S.H.I.E.L.D. agent, different from the one who had activated the machinery earlier, sat down at one of the computers and began typing; the slab Bucky was on shifted diagonally, and only a metal foot support at the base of the slab prevented him from sliding off. Now he could clearly see Stark and Natasha, both of them looking at him from their vantage point.

“Director Stark?” Dr. Perkins asked, one hand at his ear, no doubt holding the radio communicator in place. His soft voice almost echoed in the circular room they were in. Bucky could see Stark’s mouth moving, and heard the man’s voice through the doctor’s earpiece. “We’re ready to begin the procedure, sir.”

*  _Perfect. Remember, I want you to abort the procedure if any complications arise._ *

Abort the procedure? ‘No chance,’ Bucky thought. He wanted to be free of the Winter Soldier, and Stark wasn’t going to stop that, complications be damned.

“No,” Bucky said through gritted teeth, and the doctor looked at him with an suddenly alarmed expression. “You don’t stop for nothing. I want my mind cleared of anything even remotely related to the Winter Soldier, understand? Tell Stark that he better not stop the procedure, or I’ll finish what I started earlier, I swear to god.”

The doctor’s calm façade was beginning to crack; his face paled slightly, eyes going wide. “Uh, sir, Mr. Barnes wishes to tell you that-“

*  _Yes, I heard him. Have it your way, Bucky, although I should point out that making threats will get you nowhere._ *

“They’ve worked in the past. And what do you know; they’re working now too.”

Bucky could see Stark pinching the bridge of his nose, a drawn out sigh audible as he did. Some color had returned to his face; getting such a big load off his chest seemed to have invigorated the man ever so slightly.

* _Fine. Just…start the procedure. We’ll deal with complications if they arise._ *

“Understood, sir. We’ll begin immediately.”

***

  
“Fine. Just…start the procedure. We’ll deal with complications if they arise.”

* _Understood, sir. We’ll begin immediately_ .* Dr. Perkins sounded relieved that the argument hadn’t escalated. Tony understood his relief; the doctors weren’t trained for combat, and wouldn’t be able to defend themselves if Bucky decided to bail. Tony closed the channel; he was getting all the information he needed by patching into the video feed.

“Are you sure he really is ready for this, Tony?” Natasha asked, her expression worried. She was leaning against the gallery window, facing Tony instead of looking down to watch Bucky. “I can’t help but think that this is a big mistake.”

“I think Steve would probably disagree with you, but that’s beside the point. Steve asked me to save him, and if  _this_  doesn’t do it I don’t know what will.”

“I just don’t want to see him get hurt, Tony. This is too big a burden for James to carry,” Natasha said, and the use of Bucky’s first name felt weird to Tony’s ears. He was aware that Natasha had history with him, and wasn’t surprised that they were on a first name basis – but not even Steve had called him James, and Bucky had been like a brother to his friend.

Tony missed Steve; longing and guilt hit him like a sledgehammer. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. Steve was supposed to be alive, not submerged into the arctic waters while Tony helped someone else prepare to take over the mantle.

Natasha was saying something to him – Tony could see her lips move – but he didn’t snap out of it until he heard Dr. Perkins’ voice directly in his ear.

* _Sir, everything is progressing smoothly. Mr. Barnes’ vitals are stable and we have been able to remove two triggers so far. Barring any complications, the procedure should be finished soon._ *

“Good,” Tony said, looking down at Bucky as he lay there on the slab. He looked calmer than Tony had ever seen him; Bucky’s posture was relaxed, his eyes open as the doctors checked his vital signs. Tony found it difficult to look away, and if Tony ended up looking a bit  _too_  intently, well, he could always say that he was too tired to look elsewhere.

Natasha cleared her throat, and as he turned to face her Tony saw that one of her eyebrows had almost disappeared into her hair. She crossed her arms, the fingers of her right hand drumming against her ribcage. “Tony, this man isn’t ready. It doesn’t matter if they succeed in removing every Winter Soldier trigger, or if he has the shield. This will consume him. It has only been a few weeks since Steve Rogers died. James needs time to heal.”

Wondering briefly about how many times this particular conversation would be repeated, Tony massaged his temples. He could use some rest. Usually, Steve or Pepper made sure that he got some sleep, but neither of them were around. His relationship with Pepper was still strained after Happy had…

Tony would never stop blaming himself, and if he tried there would always be someone or something to remind him of what he had done – Pepper didn’t say anything to his face, but whenever Tony saw her he was reminded of Happy lying in that hospital bed, hooked to all of those machines. Tony had failed Happy; he would not fail Steve, not after everything that had happened. “Natasha,” he said, “whether he is ready or not isn’t the issue here. This was Steve’s last request, and I trust his judgement. Steve thought Bucky would be able to take up his mantle, and that’s all I need to know.”

“Tony…”

“No. You don’t understand.” Tony was aware that his voice was rising, but he didn’t care. “Steve was my  _best friend_ ! Even after everything that happened, he wanted me to take care of everything.  _Me_ . We became enemies, but he still trusted me enough to make sure I got that letter!”

Natasha remained silent, pity in her eyes clearly visible as she reached out to touch Tony’s shoulder. Tony didn’t flinch or back away; he just looked down at Bucky, and then back at her. “I need to do this, Natasha. I can’t disappoint him again.” He felt odd, like coming clean with his feelings left him open and exposed.

“I know, Tony, and I understand your emotions,” Natasha said, squeezing Tony’s shoulder, “but yelling won’t solve anything. This gallery isn’t soundproof.”

As if to make her point, she nodded towards the glass, and Tony could see everyone below pausing to stare at him, returning to their duties a few seconds later. Bucky hadn’t shifted from his position or changed his expression, but the beeping sound emitted from the heartbeat monitor increased slightly in frequency. “You are not the only one who mourns Steve; his death shook all of us. But there are people who rely on you, Tony. In the aftermath, they need you to be strong. This is a perilous time.”

“Yes, and that is why we  _need_ someone to take up Steve’s shield. People need a Captain America. Steve knew it, Bucky knows it and you should know it as well. Even if he isn’t ready, he’s the best for the role. He has the shield, and Steve trained him.”

“By that logic,  _you_  could have been Captain America.”

“That’s not funny, Natasha.” Tony said through gritted teeth. “I’m trying to do right by-“

Tony was cut off by a commotion in the operation room; the beeping was now at full speed, sounding almost like an alarm. Natasha’s gasp alerted him to look down. Drs. Perkins and Benton were frantically trying to calm Bucky down, who was convulsing violently; the third doctor had been hit by the metal arm, and was lying unconscious – at least that was Tony hoped – on the floor.

Extremis established communications. “What’s going on?!” Tony asked, following Natasha who had exited the viewing gallery and was now heading for the operating room.

* _We don’t know, sir! We were trying to remove the last trigger, and then he started to convulse! He knocked Dr. Lowell down when he tried to administer a sedative, sir!_ *

Tony was approaching the doors to the operation room, which had been flung open moments earlier by Natasha. Now two S.H.I.E.L.D agents and Dr. Benton – who was looking quite pale – were trying to hold him down, but they couldn’t keep doing it for long. “Prepare another sedative!” he yelled at them, joining Natasha and a lone agent at the computers.

Dr. Perkins prepared a needle, and injected the contents into Bucky’s arm, the convulsions slowly subsiding after he did. The beeping returned to normal, and Dr. Benton headed over to the unconscious form of Dr. Lowell, checking his pulse. “He’ll be fine,” the doctor told Tony, sweat running down his forehead; Tony guessed that there had been some psychic backlash when Dr. Benton tried to remove the last trigger.

Bucky was out cold, or at least seemed to be. “What about him?” Tony asked, pointing at unmoving body on the slab.

“The last trigger held some kind of fail-safe. I guess they wanted to make sure that he wouldn’t make it if the triggers were removed. It’s barbaric. He should be stabilized right now, and as far as I know, there should no Winter Soldier triggers left in his mind.”

“Good. Take him to the sick bay and keep him there until he wakes up; I want to be notified as soon as that happens.

***

  
Starks voice reached his ears, despite the glass and the distance; the man had to be yelling to be heard all the way down. So Stark was feeling guilty, eh? He damn well should. The doctors were looking at the viewing gallery, having paused in their work.

It  _hurt_  to get your mind fixed. The harness on his head felt heavy, and when Dr. Benton managed to remove one of the triggers a sharp sensation of pain spread throughout his body. Bucky had gritted his teeth, keeping himself still. This wasn’t the first time he had to endure pain, but the feeling of having someone wander around in his head wasn’t pleasant. He didn’t like it one bit.

Dr. Perkins was the first to stop staring at Stark and return to fixing his mind. “Don’t worry, Mr. Barnes. There should only be one trigger left. Once Dr. Benton removes it, this will all be over.”

“Hmm…it seems to be buried a bit too deep,” Dr. Benton said, and Bucky was surprised at hearing his voice; the man hadn’t uttered a word outside of his mind, “but I should be able to get to it. Just hold on for a second…”

“Try to hurry up, doc. I want that out of my head as s--“

Bucky didn’t get to finish that sentence. Without warning, a flash of pain seared through his entire body, and Bucky could feel all of his muscles simultaneously spasm. He shook out of control, the hard surface of the metal slab causing painful impacts on his head and back as he slammed against it. Bucky could feel hands on him, trying to hold him down; his metal arm shot out and connected with skin. He was aware of frenzied voices around him, but the pain was too strong for him to make anything out. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t hear, couldn’t  _think_ ; the pain was overwhelming.

Bucky briefly registered something breaking his skin; sweet relief came slowly, the pain disappearing, his muscles calming down. Darkness started to approach, covering his eyes, and the last thing Bucky heard before slipping out of consciousness was Stark’s voice.

***

  
When the light returned – albeit a bit slowly – it hurt his eyes; Bucky blinked a couple times to chase the pain away. His vision was blurred, but he could make out two human shapes looking at him; when he managed to focus, he saw that it was Drs. Benton and Perkins. Dr. Perkins had a clipboard in his hand, and Dr. Benton was looking pale, his short brown bangs plastered to his forehead. Whatever had happened to Bucky seemed to have affected him as well.

The lights were different, and Bucky noticed that he was lying in a hospital bed rather on a cold metal surface. They didn’t bring him to a hospital, did they? “Wh…what’s going on?” Bucky was surprised to find that his voice was slurred – surprised and a little bit uncomfortable. There were no involuntary movements, but he had a splitting headache, and it felt like someone had just assaulted his back with a sledgehammer. Every part of his body felt bruised, and just moving one of his fingers left him exhausted.

‘ _You’d think that I had a good time._ ’

Apparently, sedation still had some effects on his mind.

“Good, you’re awake,” Dr. Perkins said, holding the clipboard close to his chest.

“Where am I?”

“You’re in the Helicarrier sick bay. There was a slight…complication when Dr. Benton tried to remove the final trigger, as you probably noticed.”

Oh, did he ever.

“However, you should happy to know that we managed to remove all of the triggers. Director Stark ordered us to bring you here.” The doctor waved a finger in front of Bucky’s eyes. “Keep your eyes on my finger, please.” He moved it to the left, and then the right; Bucky’s gaze followed. “Good. You had a concussion and were unconscious for a few hours, but there doesn’t seem to be anything more severe than that. A little rest should be enough for you to get back on your feet.”

Dr. Benton was standing a bit further away, radioing someone. Bucky could only hear bits and pieces of what the doctor said; it felt as if his ears were full of cotton.

“…awake…we need…for observation…of course…”

Dr. Perkins followed Bucky’s line of vision, and turned back to him, smiling gently. Bucky didn’t have good experiences with doctors – the ones who treated him during his Winter Soldier days were a bunch of sick bastards, to say the least – but this one seemed all right. “Dr. Benton is contacting director Stark. He wanted to be informed about your condition.”

‘ _What do you know,_ ’ Bucky thought as he closed his eyes. Stark was probably worried that something happened to him, and that he wouldn’t be able to take up Steve’s mantle, which would add more guilt to his already overgrown pile, ‘ _selfish or not, the man isn’t completely heartless._ ’

Sleep came quickly, and for once Bucky wasn’t plagued by nightmares.

***

  
A knock on the door made Tony look away from the documents on his desk – being the director of S.H.I.E.L.D. had him doing more paperwork than he wanted to – and see Bucky leaning against it, his arms crossed. The posture should have been relaxed, but Bucky seemed too rigid pull it off. Still, he looked quite good for someone who had been in what looked like major pain only a few hours ago. The guards that had escorted Bucky to the door were observing the man with a wary glance, hands resting on their S.H.I.E.L.D. issue firearms.

Bucky could probably take them both without much effort.

Tony’s chair slid back as he got up, ushering Bucky in with a wave of his hand. Bucky just gave him a  _look_ , and moved towards the center of the office while Tony ordered the guards to patrol the perimeter, or play poker in the locker rooms, or just wander around for the next ten hours or so; Tony made it clear that he didn’t want them standing outside his door. The less people that knew about this meeting with Bucky, the better. Extremis had already disabled the surveillance in his room, but he wanted to be perfectly sure.

Said man was looking around his office, occasionally touching one of the items on his desk, like a curious child. It was a strange comparison, but it struck Tony as very fitting, and for a few moments Tony just stood at the door watching Bucky examine the holographic screens with his fingers. It wasn’t until Bucky’s exploring hands reached a framed picture on his desk that Tony was shaken out of his reverie.

The frame was simple; one of the wooden ones you could buy at almost any store. However, it was invaluable to Tony simply because of the picture it contained; one of him and Steve during their time in the New Avengers. They had decided to stay in and watch a movie – “Tony, the man travels though time in a car. How can you not find that absurd?” – with the rest of the team out doing whatever they did on their time off. Peter had taken the picture after returning for his camera, which he had left in the penthouse. After Steve’s death, Tony had decided to frame the picture and keep it in his office. It reminded him of happier times, and if he sometimes sat alone and shed silent tears while looking at it, well, that was his business.

Bucky was looking at the picture with a forlorn expression, no doubt reminiscing over his times with Steve. It made his expression softer, and he had a smile on his face that managed to reach his eyes. Bucky probably had pictures like that of their times together during the Second World War, where Steve had been alive and he had been Bucky instead of the Winter Soldier.

“So. You’re free. No more Winter Soldier,” Tony said, moving closer to Bucky. “You’re Captain America now.”

The smile faded from Bucky face, as did the warmth from his downcast eyes. His grip on the frame tightened, and Tony was afraid that it would break until Bucky looked at him with sadness in his eyes, at which point Tony was afraid that  _Bucky_  would break. “I’ll never be free. You can’t change the past, and I’ll always be the Winter Soldier to some kid whose family I killed.”

Tony wanted to kick himself. “Look, I didn’t mean-“

“Yeah, I know. Just cut to the chase, Stark.” The sadness had begun to fade from his eyes, but a piece of it was still  _there_ , visible and raw and it made Tony feel like a jerk. “The doctors told me that you wanted to see me.”

“Right. I wanted to talk to you about your new role.” Tony drew in a breath. “Look, I know we’re not on the best of terms-” Tony tried to ignore Bucky’s bemused snort “-but I think you’re going to need someone to help you. Someone who has your back.”

“I already told you, Stark; I’m not taking orders from you. You’re not going to turn me into a S.H.I.E.L.D. puppet whose strings you can pull.”

Tony pinched the bridge of his nose, a headache starting to set in. “I know what you said, Bucky. But you can’t go after the Skull without help. I’m assuming that’s your plan?” Bucky nodded slightly, and Tony decided to continue. He had to appeal to logic. “No one ordered Steve around, but he had help. Whether it was Sharon, Sam, me or one of the Avengers; Steve didn’t act alone. I helped him. Let me help you.”

“What makes you think I even  _want_  your help, Stark?” Bucky asked, sneering.

“Well…” Tony said, scratching the back of his head. “Nothing, now that I think about it. But whether you want it or not doesn’t matter. You  _need_  my help.”

Bucky was silent; he had put the picture back on Tony’s desk, and seemed to giving Tony his full attention. “Look. This is what we’re going to do. I’m going to call the guards back, and they’ll escort us to my lab at Stark Tower; I have a thing or two that I need to give you. After that, if you still don’t want my help, you’re free to go.”

“…Fine. But if I say no, I don’t want one of your agents following me. I won’t be held responsible for my actions if they do.”

Instead of answering him, Tony radioed the guards, his armor assembling around him.

***

  
The helicopter flight to Stark Tower was a silent one; Bucky opted to remain quiet while Stark was leaning back in his seat, gazing at the space in front of him. The guards hadn’t said a word since Stark had called them back in his office.

Silence fit Bucky well; he had no idea what to say. Everything was so confusing; it felt surreal, and Bucky wondered for a split second if this was some scenario Faustus had created in his mind, but then dismissed the idea. That seemed even more unlikely than him being next to Stark without a weapon pointed at the man.

His mission had been to kill Stark, to avenge Steve; instead, he was about to take up Steve’s mantle. Instead of putting a bullet in Stark’s head, his own had been freed from the influence of his Winter Solder conditioning. Now he was sitting next to Stark, and Bucky felt like had let Steve down somehow.

“Comfortable?” Stark asked, faceplate up, breaking Bucky out of his reverie. The man was looking at him directly, again, and it made Bucky feel…something he couldn’t quite put his finger on. Stark had been giving him these  _looks_  ever since they fought in the Helicarrier. It was almost like being looked at by an admirer, with fleeting glances that were redirected upon discovery. Bucky had received such glances all too often during the war - mostly from beautiful daughters of various noblewomen whom attended the parties which he, Steve, and the rest of the Invaders were invited to. In response to their stares, it was only polite that he introduce himself and openly flirt with them: he was young; hormonal; and in the presence of lovely young ladies.

Bucky wouldn’t admit it to Stark, but he secretly enjoyed the attention the man gave him. After all, Stark  _was_  a good looking man; tall and lean, with handsome features and clear hazel eyes. A voice in the back of his head told him that he could do, and had done, worse.

The absurdity of the situation was not lost on him.

Bucky tried to lift his arms and failed; his hands hand been bound behind his back, but the tie was loose enough for Bucky to know that it was mainly for show, rather than to disable his mobility; Bucky was surprised that they hadn’t made him wear handcuffs. And Stark probably knew that he could just as easily incapacitate the guards with without the use of his hands. “As comfortable as I can be. I just want to get this over with.”

Stark looked amused, but his eyes seemed tired. “I know. So do I. Anyways, we should be arriving soon,” he said, leaning back once again.

They arrived at the tower a few moments later, the guards escorting both of them to what seemed to be a spacious lab. Stark punched in a code which opened opaque glass doors, and the guards were dismissed upon Stark’s entry; they untied Bucky before leaving. He ventured deeper in to the lab, looking around as he did. There were pieces of metal and various tools spread all around the room; Bucky noticed an unmade bed in the corner, most likely put there so that Stark would never have to leave.

Bucky stopped near a table with blueprints scattered across its surface, and looked at Stark, who looked around the lab with warmth in his eyes. “Why do you want to help me?” Bucky asked, and for a brief moment Stark seemed taken aback by Bucky’s question, but he quickly regained his composure as Bucky pressed on. “Guilt? Sense of nostalgia? Pathological need to control the situation?” Stark looked like he wanted to say something, like he wanted to fend off the accusations, but didn’t. “What are you expecting in return, Stark?”

“For starters, how about you calling me Tony? Stark seems so formal,” Stark said with a playful tone, obviously trying to lighten the mood.

What were his intentions? Bucky couldn’t understand Stark, but he had never expected to. After the stunts Stark had pulled during the superhero Civil War, Bucky had decided that the man had a few screws loose; nothing else could explain how he spearheaded the arrests of his fellow heroes.

“We’re not exactly buddies,  _Stark_ . Don’t try to act like we are.

“Well, that was a disaster,” Stark sighed, putting his helmet down on the floor. “I’m just trying to help. It’s what Steve would have wanted.”

‘ _We’ll never know what Steve wanted. The Skull made sure of that_ ,’ Bucky thought bitterly. “Look, Stark, I’m not in the mood for games. You’re not the type to help without expecting something in return, and I’ve already told you that you can’t order me around.”

Stark sighed, and under the low lights his face looked pale and tired, almost gaunt. When was the last time the man had rested? “I’m not trying to give you orders, and I don’t want anything in return. I just want to help. If you don’t want to accept it, fine, but don’t ask me twenty questions.” There was a slight bitterness in Stark’s voice, and for the briefest of moments, Bucky felt a twinge of guilt. Maybe Stark saw this as a way of redeeming himself. Bucky knew how it felt to want redemption so badly that it took over everything else. Taking over Steve’s mantle, becoming Captain America, was his road to redemption. And helping him would be Stark’s.

“…Okay. But I’m telling you, Stark-“

“I told you. Call me Tony.”

Relentless. “Fine.  _Tony._ Don’t try to order me around. If I see you or any of your S.H.I.E.L.D. lackeys keeping tabs on me, the deal is off, and I  _will_  come after you.” Bucky realized that it might be a little extreme, but he needed to get his point across.

Tony seemed to lighten up, despite Bucky’s threat, and what looked like a genuine smile was plastered on his face. “Excellent. Well then. I have some things I need to give you…”

***

  
“Fine.  _Tony._ Don’t try to order me around. If I see you or any of your S.H.I.E.L.D. lackeys keeping tabs on me, the deal is off, and I  _will_  come after you.”

Tony wasn’t surprised at the threat, although he did think that Bucky was getting a bit repetitive. Considering the situation, Tony didn’t blame him, but co-operation between them would be difficult if this kept up. Still, they seemed to be on a first name basis, and Tony recognized progress when he saw it. For the first time in a long time, he felt like smiling, and he did.

“Excellent,” he said, feeling better than he did only a few minutes ago. “Well then. I have some things I need to give you.” Tony moved towards the worktable, his armor disassembling as he did, leaving him only in his golden undersheath. It took willpower not to remove it so that he would only be left in his boxers. Tony wouldn’t mind Bucky looking at his body, but this was not the time.

Tony didn’t know where this sudden attraction was coming from, but he couldn’t act on it.

‘ _Not yet, anyway_ .’

He picked up a small device that was lying on the table; small and circular, the device fit in his palm perfectly. Tony had built it a week ago, but he had no idea that it would be used for this.

“Here,” he said, walking over to Bucky and giving him the device. “It’s a communicator,” Tony said, and the confused look which was beginning to form on Bucky’s face disappeared. “It will allow you to contact me directly through Extremis.”

“How does it work?”

“It’s not that complicated, really. I just calibrated it to go with the Extre- oh. You want instructions,“ Tony said, noticing Bucky’s raised eyebrow. “You just press this little button here…” Tony pointed at a small red button at the bottom, “and then start to talk. I’ll be receiving any communication through this device right in here.” This time, Tony pointed at his head. “Don’t try to contact me in any other way, got it? Don’t go near Stark Tower or S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters. Is that clear?” Tony realized that he sounded commanding, and that Bucky would probably not appreciate it, but he had found that it was a good way of making people listen. Disgruntled employees tended to listen when you commandingly threatened to fire them.

Bucky’s eyebrow rose higher. “I’m not an idiot,  _Tony_ ,” he said, and it felt as if Bucky had a hard time saying Tony’s name, like the notion of uttering it was something particularly hard to swallow. Tony didn’t know if he should be intrigued or slightly insulted. “Whoever’s pulling your strings probably wouldn’t like that you’re helping me, and you need a secure way of communication.”

“Right.” Bucky had probably seen his fair share of undercover missions that required such secrecy. “You’ll be an unregistered hero; I can’t be seen openly supporting you.”

“I know. Anything else?”

Tony hesitated slightly before answering. “Steve’s uniform,” he said, moving towards the wall. Having a wall safe hidden behind a picture was pretty cliché, but his lab alone had better security than most locations with top of the line security systems. No one would be able to get it, much less look behind the large framed picture of the Avengers hanging on the wall. Tony opened the safe behind it, taking out a medium-sized box and blowing on it to remove the dust that had been collecting. Resisting the urge to cough, he walked back to Bucky and handed him the box. “I kept it, after…his death.” Mentioning Steve’s passing was always difficult, and Tony knew that it would never become easier. “Although I couldn’t find his mask.”

Bucky took the box from Tony, but didn’t open it. “You took his  _uniform_ ?” There was a slight edge of steel to his tone.

“Yes. His uniform was damaged during the shooting. Instead of having it patched and put up on display, I decided to keep it locked away. The one located in the Smithsonian is obviously a replica, and so is the one Steve was buried with.”

Bucky removed the lid of the box, and looked down at the red, white and blue garb. There was a bullet hole in the chest area, with the edges frayed. “Why?” he asked, and this time his eyes were cold.

“Why what?”

“Why the fuck would you keep his uniform?” The anger in Bucky’s tone wasn’t hard to spot. “I don’t understand you, Stark. I thought I was beginning to, and then you show me  _this_ . You took his shield, his uniform, his freedom…”

Tony clenched his fists. He tried to calm himself down, but Bucky continued. “Did you get, what, some kind of  _sick thrill_  from it? You took away everything that was dear to Steve. You were supposed to be his friend, for god’s sake!”

“Shut up.”

“Oh my God, is Steve even buried? Or do you have his body stashed somewhere? Huh?”

Tony’s fist connected with Bucky’s face before the man had time to react.

***

  
Pain blossomed where Tony’s fist hit his cheek as Bucky lost his footing, falling down on the hard floor, the box never leaving his hands. The lights from the ceiling hit his eyes, and he had to blink away a tear. The blow would probably leave a bruise, but Bucky didn’t care. He knew that what he said had taken it a bit too far, but the sudden rage Bucky felt knowing that Steve hadn’t been buried with anything that was his, that he treasured, impaired his judgement. He could see Tony’s face looking over him, expression half apologetic, half furious.

“I made sure that no one could take what’s his and use it for the wrong reasons. I’m not going to apologize for that,” Tony said, offering his hand. Bucky took it, and was soon stood on his feet, fingers tenderly touching his cheek. Tony had hit him harder than expected. “But you were right. Steve isn’t buried at Arlington.”

Bucky’s eyes widened. “What?” Had Tony kept the body for experiments? Steve’s friend or no, if he had, Bucky wouldn’t hold back.

“Not what you think,” Tony said, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I…held a private ceremony in the Arctic, with Jan and Hank. We returned his body to where we found him, and Namor promised that he would make sure Steve’s final resting place wouldn’t be disturbed. I didn’t keep his body in a morgue somewhere to perform experiments.” At this point, Tony’s voice was cracking. “He was my friend. I’d lay down my life for him. I wish I could have at congress, but…I…” A choked sob followed.

So that was why Tony had taken Steve’s uniform: to make sure no one could steal his legacy. It was touching, but Bucky was still too angry to appreciate it. It would wear off eventually, but until it did, Bucky didn’t want much to do with Tony. “Fine. I’ll take it.” He looked at the garb, with its patriotic colors, and decided not to tell Tony about Frank Castle giving him the cowl. Looking at the uniform brought back many memories, but wearing it would be too much. “But I won’t use it. I can’t wear Steve’s old uniform. I’m not him, nor will I ever be.”

Tony seemed to have regained his composure, but his eyes were slightly red. “Then we’ll design a new one. I can draw up some ideas.”

“Okay. Good. Do you want to do it now?”

Tony shook his head. “No. I’ll get Natasha to drive you to Steve’s loft. She’ll get you back here tomorrow.” Bucky nodded while Tony contacted Natasha. Leaving this for tomorrow was a good idea. Neither of them were in the mood to do anything today. “Natasha, I need you to come down to my lab. Yes, he’s here. No, we’re both fine,” Tony said, giving Bucky a glance, most likely checking out the bruise on his cheek, “well, as fine as we can be. Just get down here. Say hi to Sam for me. No, that wasn’t supposed to be a joke.” There was a small moment of silence, followed by an affronted exclamation from Tony. “Of course not!” Bucky’s eyebrow rose at the exchange, even though he only heard one part of it, and Tony looked a bit amused. “She’ll be here soon.”

“Okay,” Bucky said. And then, because he didn’t want to spend the following moments in awkward silence, he decided to put out few ideas. “I have a suggestion or two about the uniform…”

***

  
* _Just get down here. Say hi to Sam for me.*_

“Is that a joke, Tony?” Natasha asked, a bit angry at being woken up. Beside her, Sam was breathing softly into her neck, one arm around her waist. Natasha couldn’t believe that she found someone who wanted to cuddle.

She also couldn’t believe that it didn’t bother her.

* _No, that wasn’t supposed to be a joke.*_

“How do you even know about me and Sam?” A horrible thought crossed her mind. “Tony, you didn’t- are there  _surveillance cameras_ here?” Natasha didn’t think that Tony would invade her privacy in such a manner, but it never hurt to ask.

If Tony had her under surveillance, Natasha would break one of his fingers. Maybe two, for good measure. She didn’t like being spied on, and his fingers would heal. Eventually.

* _Of course not!*_ Tony exclaimed, sounding affronted.

“We will discuss this later, Tony. I’ll get over there as soon as I can,” Natasha said, turning her communicator off. She didn’t want to get up; Sam’s embrace was warm and comfortable, his broad chest against her back. He had finally decided to rest after searching around the entire city for Sharon, and Natasha had missed having a bit of alone time with him. It wasn’t exactly a candlelight dinner and a carriage ride, but sex probably counted as quality time. Once they found Sharon, Natasha would drag him on a vacation somewhere. Maybe Paris.

She turned around to face Sam, whose eyes were open. “You heard?” She asked, and Sam nodded. “Tony wants me to get over to this lab.”

“At this hour?” Sam said, trying to stifle a yawn as he did. “It’s after midnight.”

“You know me, lover. The Black Widow has a very flexible schedule,” Natasha said and sat up. Her clothes were all over the floor; locating her underwear wasn’t an easy task in a dark room, despite the moonlight illuminating bits and pieces. Natasha glanced at Sam’s form, the pale moonlight shining directly on him; in that light he looked beautiful, every muscle almost sparkling. “Apparently, James is still at Stark Tower with Tony. Hopefully they won’t kill each other before I get there.”

“Tony is a reasonable man. He wouldn’t attack Bucky unless he was sufficiently provo- oh. You better hurry.” Sam said, a grin forming on his face.

Natasha had finished dressing, and was just about to leave the bedroom when she turned around to look at Sam. “Want to go out to dinner tonight?”

“Of course. How about that Italian restaurant on 15 th street?”

“Lovely.” And with that, she exited the room, cursing Tony silently as she did. She could have been in bed, comfortable and relaxed. Instead she was on her way to Stark Tower, hoping that she wouldn’t find missing limbs or a corpse when she arrived.

***

  
Relief hit Natasha when she noticed that neither Tony nor James seemed worse for fear. Tony had given Natasha the access codes to the lab in case there was an emergency, and she entered the spacious lab where both men stood, leaning over a worktable. Upon noticing her entry, Tony stood up straight and looked at her.

“That was fast.”

“The possibility of finding either of you dead is an effective way to make me hurry, Tony.”

“Don’t worry, we played nice.”

James kept leaning over the table, but raised his head. A mark had formed on his cheek, and Natasha could only raise an eyebrow at the implications. “Yes, I can see that,” she said, dryly, and Tony had the decency to look slightly embarrassed. “What do you want me to do, Tony?”

“I need you to escort Bucky to Steve’s apartment. I don’t want anyone to see you, so be as stealthy as possible.”

Bucky let out a bemused snort, still looking at what Natasha now could identify as drawings. “We’re spies, Tony. Hell, we’re probably the best in the world. No one sees us unless we want them to.” He ended his sentence by looking directly at Tony, a smirk on his face, and Natasha wondered when they started to be on a first-name basis.

Men were so complicated.

  



End file.
